


生きる事 (To Live)

by Takophin



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takophin/pseuds/Takophin
Summary: Mamiya was right at death's footstep, only to be kicked out and thrown back into the despair he had desperately try to leave behind to burn in all eternity.In other words, Mamiya is alive.





	1. What Lies Beyond Death

**Author's Note:**

> Like any typical fandom, I think we're due a 'what if -this- character didn't die' fic.

At the end of Mamiya's never-ending sorrow was numbness, pain, and eternal bliss. Or so he had thought. 

Mamiya was right at death's footstep, ready to be devoured in darkness forever. A final recital with his violin and a bullet through the heart was all Mamiya's asking. When he had collapsed, he thought that for the first and last time, his wish was finally granted. Then he was kicked out of death's footstep and thrown back into the despair he had desperately tried to leave behind to burn in all eternity. It was all a joke.

Now lying on a bed, the first thing to greet him awake was brightness-- the painful realization that even _death_ did not want him, that he was _alive_.

Mamiya shot up and screamed.

"Stop that! You're going to open your wounds."

Mamiya had not listened to the voice, but he did as told if only because his throat felt like he had swallowed burning spikes. Beads of cold sweat trickled down his head. He could feel his heart thrumming with a force that could break his ribcage, his head being split in half and burst into flames. Mamiya struggled to take a deep breath, trying to focus on the oxygen entering his burning lungs in an attempt to ignore the ringing pain on his torso. The pain felt very tiny, very precise, yet so intense like a saw was lodged in his torso. No, it was as if someone had shot him--

Edge of cliff. Sea. Ariga. Violin. Gunshot.

_Ariga._

" _ARIGA_!" Mamiya yanked the roots of his brown hair as if that would stop the pain and the overflowing memories. Without fully realizing it, his other hand clawed at his bandaged torso. _It hurts..!!_ The nails of his fingers were eager to carve themselves into the exposed meat, scratching through every layer of his muscles until the pain goes away, permanently.

Before he could come close to touching his torso, his hands were seized by the wrist; both of them. The tight grip on his wrists prohibited any movements no matter how hard Mamiya tried to break free. It was only after an entire minute of futile struggles did Mamiya's brain register that he was being prevented from moving. By someone. _Someone else was in the room._

"What are you trying to do?" The other person demanded angrily. Mamiya paled, his heart screaming at him to fight back and run away. The drumming of his wild heartbeat was so loud, it completely drowned his logic that tried to tell him the voice belonged to someone familiar. Instead, he formulated his own reasonings, based on fragments of memories that had yet returned entirely. There was black, The Church. There was purple, Quantum Cat, a terrorist, that he was--

_'I want to burn Japan to the ground!'_

" _AAAAAAAAA!!!!_ "

"Mamiya, calm down-"

"Let go of me!" Mamiya screeched. He desperately yanked his hand again and again in a feeble attempt to escape the iron grips. He had to escape. He refused to sit down and wait for agony to be unleashed upon him. He had suffered enough! But no matter what, the shackles around his wrists would not budge. Without thinking twice, Mamiya lunged in the direction of the other person, his panic overrode the burning pain his action sent to his entire system.

A click of tongue was the only warning Mamiya got. The next thing he saw was a flurry of black and suddenly Mamiya's back was slammed against the bed and his hands were pinned above his head. The careful impact against the soft, fluffy bed was enough to awaken the beast that was his torso wounds, sending shards of pain piercing every inch of his skin, drilling through his bones and scything down to the naked veins. Mamiya's head reeled. He was left with barely enough strength to look at his assaulter.

The person hovering on top of him had his face so close to Mamiya's, he could feel the other's riled up breathing on his lips. With cloudy gaze, Mamiya looked into the other's eyes- or eye. The person's other eye was covered by something black, his hair, Mamiya came to understand later. There was someone he knew who matched this hairstyle. The name eluded him, so did his memories of this person, but not his feelings. Even though all Mamiya wanted was to close his eyes, preferably for an eternity, he found himself stubbornly clinging onto his consciousness for no other reason than to put a name to this person.

"…Yuuri?"

"Took you long enough." Yuuri sighed, his eye lazily stared back at Mamiya's unfocused ones. "Now, can you stop freaking out, or do I need to hold you down the entire time?"

The memories behind the name had not come, but Mamiya could feel something was wrong with this revelation. Scratch that. _Everything_ was wrong.

Like bullets from a machine gun, fragments of memories rained down on him all at once. He was--a violinist, a child of a terrorist parents, Yuuri's former messiah, Ariga's messiah, a traitor to the Church, a member of Quantum Cat-- _a monster._

"No…" Mamiya trembled. "No." His head grew more lightheaded than it already was. "I'm sorry…" Mamiya wasn't sure what he was saying anymore. If not for Yuuri pinning his hands down, he would be tearing things to shreds, starting with his hair and wounds, and ending with his life. " _I'm sorry…!_ " Mamiya muttered apologies again and again like it was some kind of chant, one he had rehearsed well throughout his entire life. He went on and on, struggling against his binding with whatever energy he had left. All of the sudden, he stopped; The silence stood out in contrast to the previous outbursts.

Yuuri hesitated for a moment. "…I trust you not to do anything stupid."

Even after Yuuri removed himself from on top of Mamiya, Mamiya could nothing to adjust his position. He had grown so drained that even the strained of his hands being unnaturally stretched above his head did not concern him.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught Yuuri who had returned to his seat next to the bed staring at him. _What is he doing here still?_ Mamiya lamented his inability to give Yuuri a piece of his mind. _Leave!_ His brain yelled. Yuuri did not move an inch, of course. Nothing ever went the way Mamiya wanted. He was being naive for thinking now would be any different. Resigned, he welcomed the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

"I hope you're listening to me." Yuuri's voice was as solemn and whisper-like as Mamiya had known it to be. Rather than piercing through the silence, it seemed to blend together to form unbearable tension, as if his breath was held by the sharp claws of a talon. It held Mamiya's conscience hostage.

"You have two bullet wounds, one on your abdomen and one close to your heart. So obviously, stop doing anything to worsen the wounds."

Mamiya briefly wondered what kind of sick, cruel game was God playing with him, for this death seeking man to survive being shot twice, one nearly fatal. A sudden recollection of his heated exchange with Ariga flashed in his mind. In that flurry of unassembled puzzle of his memory, one sound stood out very clear--no, two sounds. The sounds of gunshot in critical proximity.

" _Why…_?"

The one word that perfectly described the pathetic state of Mamiya's existence, slipped past his lips with unstable and barely audible voice. Yuuri stayed silent at first. When it became clear that Mamiya had finished talking, he replied, his usual whisper-like voice conveyed a certain emphasis that Mamiya did not notice, for there was something else that stood out like a sore thumb.

"You have to ask Ariga yourself."

Mamiya bursted into laughter. The name 'Ariga' somehow sounded so funny, Mamiya could not stop laughing. His body curled to a fetal position with his back facing Yuuri, his hands went to the wounds on his torso as his body instinctively reacted to the pain his mind failed to register. The only thing that broke Mamiya's laughter was his own choking while Yuuri silently observed from the side of the bed.

 _Why can't I stop laughing…_ The unprecedented burst of euphoria clouded Mamiya's judgement, making him numb to the pain that made his eyes tear up. It made him oblivious, when the reason was clearly right before him. But as his logic failed, his emotions did not. A sudden force, one that felt like it could burst his heart to shards seized him. His ears rang as if they had just been exposed to a deafening blast and his visions blinded white.

Mamiya knew this feeling; The day his parents had died in an explosion. Mamiya should have died back then, but his life was spared, by none other than _Ariga_.

Suddenly it was no longer funny.

His laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started, leaving him wheezing for breath. His lungs were on fire. Or it might be the wounds on his torso, Mamiya could no longer distinguish. He was nothing but agony and all he had always wanted was for everything to _stop_.

"Kill me."

It could have all been averted, had his messiah not been a coward.

Yuuri answered calmly. "If it was up to me, I would have killed you."

 _Why didn't you?_ Mamiya wanted to ask. But he barely had the strength to remain conscious, his head a swirl of emotions and his visions were starting to grow murky. He could not even force himself to wait for Yuuri's answer, his mind slipping further and further into darkness with every second.

However, Yuuri refused to let him go, not without giving him a piece of his mind. He rose up and whispered next to Mamiya's ears.

"Remember this. If you _ever_ hurt Mamoru again, no matter what Ariga says or does, I will make sure your life ends by my own two hands."

The words jolted Mamiya awake, giving him a brief clarity of mind. He eventually succumbed into slumber, a little too late, for his exceptionally sharp ears remains alert long enough to pick up a conversation he wished he had not.

_"Ah, you came by again! You're so diligent, unlike Shirazaki. He hasn't visited, not even once…that stern looking friend of yours too."_

"I also told that stern looking friend this: He was once a partner of mine. It's the least I can do."

_Yuuri...my messiah...  
_

_Ariga..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my next 'daily fic' project! Yaaaayyy~  
> I didn't write this every day, but I did edit it several times, though it probably doesn't show in the writing XP  
> I'll be updating it every month, for the entire year, which means a total of 12 chapters.  
> And since the story plan is not completely set in stone, and with the upcoming stage play and movie, I'll probably tweak the plot again and again. Be prepared for plot holes XD
> 
> Also, guess which is going to be the main pairing of this fic~


	2. Palm to Palm is Holy Palmer's Kiss

When the first thing Mamiya saw was white, he sighed. He had hoped to see nothing, at all. Instead, a white ceiling. He should have learnt to keep his expectation realistic.

Mamiya closed his eyes. He could feel the softness of the bed sheet against his back, could smell a faint scent that was not his, could hear nature's cacophony. Silently, he counted to five. The bed still felt soft, the odor still lingered around (though he minded it less), and the natural symphony continued to adorn the otherwise silent room. Without a doubt, Mamiya was alive.

He sighed again, staring blankly at the vast whiteness above. It reminded him of 'heaven', a place he had grown up believing to be filled with pure, untainted white. He had never imagined hell; he did not have to. Hell had always been here, this living world he was not allowed escape from. Forever rooted here in hell, only looking up, trying in vain to reach the unattainable.

Once before, heaven had graced Mamiya.

Mamiya had been on his knees, surrounded by whites. Those were his school papers; Assignments, homework, tests, every single paper that had been carefully stored now strewn carelessly all over the floor. It was an obvious sign to his teenage self that someone had broken into his parents' home and ransacked everything, including his bedroom. 

Quietly, Mamiya picked up the fallen pieces. An exam paper that had been graded full mark, certificates of his academic accomplishments, all held no significance, and were carelessly discarded into one unsorted pile. He was looking for very specific papers, ones that did not contain words or numbers, only notes. Music notes.

Each music sheet found brought a blissful smile of someone released from his torturous shackles. Assumed the usual grace of a violinist, Mamiya played a harmony only he could hear out of thin air, the silent notes forming a gentle wave that washed him clean, and took him away to someplace safe. Before he knew it, a recital had ended, while his room still looked like a shipwreck.

Perhaps he could play another one now. Mamiya attempted to lift himself to a seating position in one shot. Instantly his torso exploded with pain of someone being gutted. Mamiya doubled over, trembling hands desperately clinging at the blanket wrapped loosely around his torso. 

Right. Two gunshot wounds.

And a sombre violin…?

The urge to play his violin dissipated quicker than the ache on his heart ever could. Rejection, isolation, disdain; all brought pain to his heart, but this was beyond excruciating. A peek down revealed an upper body that was fully covered with bandages, looped around his midriff and his left shoulder, strategically covering the parts that hurt most.

One shaky hand went to hover near the wound on his abdomen. This was, without a doubt, his messiah…

His hand slowly moved up to the wound on the left side of his chest, right where his heart was. _This_ was…

Mamiya shook his head. Even if he desperately tried to recall to the point of splitting his head, all he could come up with was an image of darkness, with a particular melody that agitated his heart so much he wanted to rip it out. His fingers, all five of them, formed a siege around the wound, on the thin layer of skin and bandages that concealed his beating organ. His index finger was exactly placed where the bullet had penetrated him, the wound pulsing rapidly, begging Mamiya to reconsider. It knew thegentlest of force would do it. It would be the end.  _His_ end.

Seconds ticked by without a single inch of movement, only the rising and falling of his breathing. 

 _No._ Mamiya curled his fingers into a fist. _Not like this_. With his trembling hand held close to his chest, Mamiya swallowed hard. He…He needed his violin. _Is my violin here?_ It was such a ridiculous question. Yet Mamiya forced himself to look.

The room would have been in pitch darkness if not for sunlight shimmering through the gaps of long vertical panes of the large window to his right. Starting from his left, there was a bedside table with nothing on it. A standing lamp and a study desk were next to it, but the desk was also empty, as if never used. There was a wall partition that seemed to suggest the presence of another room within this room.And a door across him, that suddenly flung open. A surge of brightness flooded the room, temporarily blinding Mamiya.

"Ah! You're awake!" A voice greeted.

_"Ah, you came by again!…"_

Mamiya had heard that voice before. Blinking away the shock, he squinted to take a good look at the person and found …nothing. That parted bangs or that thick nose, none he had seen before. Neither had he seen such innocent impression on someone that looked about his age. Then his eyes caught the uniform the young man was wearing and everything was instantly destroyed. Panic seized him like a heart attack. _The Public Security Bureau Section 4!_ It did not take a genius to realize what a terrorist meeting a police meant.

As if on cue, both his wounds decided to alarm Mamiya of their severity, pain pumping through his veins with each rapidly increasing heartbeat. _No…!!_ Mamiya hissed, his hands desperately wrenched the blanket for dear life. "I'm sorry…" Mamiya scrambled to get as far away from the man as possible, to the point where his back clashed against the headboard with a harsh thud. 

This had all just been a temporary confinement room, an ironic pleasantries, before this police would commence to wring every last drop of information out of Mamiya. Skinning, whipping, burning, drowning, sensory deprivation, just to name a few. Mamiya had seen the atrocities of a terrorist interrogation firsthand, and for him to be taken away to suffer the same fate…!

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!" Mamiya yanked the blanket from his waist and hid his entire existence inside, the frenzied sputtering did not cease. This was a fate worst than death. This was hell. This was hell and there could be no salvation as they would not let Mamiya die and death would not even accept him. Someone like him should have never lived. Why was he even here? What for? To endure more of this living hell for being a terrorist? He did not want any of this. Was this what his parents would have wanted? He did not want this!

Mamiya's breathing grew more impeded by the second. It did not help that the blanket limited his air supply further. Asphyxiation. Not a bad way to die. He had to best die now or he could never be saved-!

"What are you doing?!"

Mamiya could not comprehend the touch on his shoulder, the firm hand that was struggling to pull the blanket away from him. He tightened his death grip on the blanket, his lifeline, even if his breathing had turned into pained wheezing. His string of apologies grew quieter.

"No- Don't do this! You got to let go, please!"

There was only so much struggle a wounded man could put up. The blanket was ultimately pried off him, leaving Mamiya with only a pair of frail, quivering hands to hide behind. He could not even bring his knees up. This was it. The police would easily seize Mamiya's wrists with cuffs, perhaps ropes, or maybe even---

Instead, a welcoming warmth enveloped Mamiya's hands. It gently guided his icy cold hands down to his lap. Mamiya subconsciously, desperately, clung onto the sensation, tangling his fingers with the other man's.

"Hey."

Mamiya's grip on the other man's hand grew tighter. As if that was enough to stall the police should he decided to seize Mamiya by force. He might be cutting the blood flow on the police's fingers.  

"I'm not going to harm you. Don't freak, okay?"

The lightly reassuring voice had come from such close proximity. The same source that was radiating warmth to Mamiya's hands. It made Mamiya want to believe that everything was alright, that he was safe. Mamiya did not manage to raise his lowered guard in time. He accidentally saw it.

This man, the police that was going to make Mamiya suffer beyond hell, was looking at him with eyes as clear as a newly born baby. Unassuming, accepting, as if he was not staring at a terrorist. Mamiya quickly hid behind his bangs.

"I'm Takano Yuuta of Public Security Bureau Section 4." The man had grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed. Not once did he let go of Mamiya's hand. "I'm also the owner of this house, so I'm definitely not a bad guy!"

"My name--" Mamiya quickly halted. Returning the formalities had come so naturally. But he did not want to say it, the filthy name that felt like dirt worms crawling through his veins. Mamiya shook his head, a gesture that was also meant to convey a silent plea. _Please, just leave me alone_ , Mamiya desperately prayed for his intention to be transmitted across.

"I'M GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!"

Surprisingly, he did not need to.

A stark contrast to his loud exclamation, the police gently placed his other hand on top of their interlocking ones. The extra physical contact caused Mamiya's nerves to go beyond boiling point. It was too much. Mamiya jerked both of his hands away.

He had done it.

He had tainted the police's with these sinful hands. For those hands that had saved countless lives to be in contact with the ones that rob them... To have such intimate, dirty physical contact. Unforgivable. The police surely would hate him now--

*click*

The door ahead of him swung shut. Mamiya could not feel it, but it was as if a gust of wind blew at him, clearing away the cloudiness of his thoughts. Mamiya blinked. His hands looked very pale and scrawny, especially under the excessive exposure of the sunlight-- It suddenly hit him how bright the room had become, and how very quiet. The vertical curtain panels were all bunched up to the side away from him, allowing the afternoon sunlight to roam into every nook and cranny of the room. That, and he was all alone.

Was that all an illusion? Mamiya looked around, hoping to find something to prove against him losing his mind. He spotted a small white paper and a pen on the bedside table. He picked up the card and read:

 ** _A_ _sk your friend to call this number for emergency!_  **  
**_xxx-oooo  
_ _Takano_**

 

_'Ah, now that you're awake you'll need food….'_

 

_'… be cold by afternoon…'_

 

_'…your friend should be here today as well…'_

 

_'…tell him, kay?'_

 

Mamiya could hear the police's voices, even though there was clearly no one else in the room. He closed his eyes. The voices played once again, this time in a midst of a conundrum- the stomping of boots, scratching of pen against paper- and the police's incessantly loud voice was like the trumpet of an elephant.

He opened his eyes. The image of the entire occurrence would not come to his mind. Neither could he make sense of the voice clips. He flipped the note, hoping to find another clue, but there was nothing written on the back. He flipped it back. A second glance at the note brought a different memory to surface.

 

_'Won't….…'_

 

_'…….Shirazaki?'_

 

Dizziness engulfed Mamiya. Clumsily returning the note to the bedside table, he slammed his back against the bed, ignoring the protests of his wounds, and his eyelids fell shut.

 

' _Won't you tell me why, Shirazaki?'_

 

* * *

 

"Are you alive?"

A whisper like voice roused Mamiya up from his light rest. His eyes were immediately assaulted with brightness akin to a living flame and he squinted his eyes. Then he saw _him_.

Mamiya hasted to get away from this man as far away as possible. With his limbs feeling heavier than gravity itself, his efforts only brought about pain. Mamiya was instantly awake.

"Do you remember me?" Compared to the police, the way this man talked and looked at him resembled one of a police and a prisoner more. Slowly, Mamiya adjusted his position until he was sitting against the bed rest, while keeping as much distance as possible from the other man.

"…Yuuri." Everything about Yuuri made Mamiya desperate to run away. The way he was sitting backwards on the chair the police had used earlier, the eerie look on his face. And that black uniform. Mamiya had never wanted to see that ever again.

"So you're awake this time. Good." Yuuri commented. Mamiya decided not to voice his lack of recollection on their previous encounter.

"I'll go straight to the point." Without letting Mamiya out of his gaze, Yuuri spoke as if he was discussing a mission. "In Church, you are classified as a former cadet killed in action. In the public database, you are classified as head of terrorist organization, eliminated. Mamiya Seiren is dead."

Mamiya averted his gaze. Yuuri did not.

"You are currently housed by _Takano…Yuuta_ from Public Security Bureau Section 4." Yuuri's voice wavered slightly. "You are to not involve Takano Yuuta any further than that as a temporary patient. Do not divulge any information pertaining to Section 5. Once you have fully healed, move out from this place immediately,"

"And _never_ , _ever_ associate yourself with us, _ever_ again." Every single words were delivered by Yuuri with cold precision that resembled Ariga, only Yuuri made no effort to mask his animosity. Too bad voices could not kill.

"Why-" Mamiya choked. _Why are you doing this? Why the police? Just…_

_Why?_

"You have to ask Ariga yourself."

"You've said that befor--" Mamiya paused at his own jab. Yuuri did? "Sorry."

Yuuri looked slightly taken aback at the apology. "Not needed." He continued. "And I'll say it again and again. _Ask. Ariga_."

Mamiya could think of various reasons why he could not, should not, and therefore would not ask Ariga. At least not anytime soon. "Why did _you_?"

" _Ask Ariga._ "

"I--"

" _Ask. Ariga._ "

"Ariga asked you to do this?" Mamiya forced himself to finish his words. But Yuuri did not say anything.

"That…can't be it."

Mamiya had no idea how to proceed from here. The idea of Ariga _asking_ anyone to do anything was very, _very_ difficult to stomach, especially with regards to himself. The corner of his eyes caught a glance of the note on the table. Did Ariga ask a favor from this police too? Why on earth would the police agree to this?

"Doesn't he know I'm a terro--"

"He doesn't." Yuuri answered. Mamiya stared at him with a confused look, not realizing that he had been voicing his concerns out loud. "I assume you are talking about Mr. Takano."

After two silent beats, Mamiya nodded.

"Then the answer is no, he doesn't. And you should keep it that way. Keep his involvement to a minimum."

 

_'I'm definitely not a bad guy!'_

The police might not be one, but Mamiya was.

 

 _'_ ' _I'm not going to harm you._ '

Would the police still keep to his words, if he knew who Mamiya truly was?

 

"Mamiya, listen to me." Yuuri's voice grew strained. "If you want to continue living, it is best if you stay silent."

"Who says I want to live?" Mamiya snapped.

"Ariga…" Yuuri hesitated, before adding. "Ask him."

"Like I can!" Mamiya yelled. The force of his voice irritated his wounds so badly, Mamiya had to wrap his hand around to support them for what he had to say next. "I'm a _terrorist_. I've betrayed the Church. I _want_ to die and _Ariga_ was supposed to kill me then and there and…!"

Mamiya gritted his teeth. The sting were growing unbearable with every word. "And you're telling me to not be involved anymore, but you put me in _a police_ 's charge. You want me dead-- _I_ want me dead-- but you won't kill me. And all of this is supposed to be because of my messiah."

"I don't get it… I don't--" Mamiya briefly succumbed to the pain. He stubbornly refused to go down before finishing what he had to say.

"Just what is it that you want from me!?"

His wounds felt like they were on verge of being ripped open. Cold sweat were trickling down his head and onto the blanket. Every breathe he took might as well be him grasping for life. He sat there, with his teeth clenched and eyes shut, enduring everything for the sake of the answer.

But the voice that came next was not Yuuri's.

"Is everything okay?"

Mamiya forced himself to look with one eye. Standing at the door was the police with a dumbfounded look. "Just thought I'll come home early today to check on you. Is everything alright?"

Yuuri did not address the home owner first. He leaned closer until his lips nearly touching Mamiya's ears, and whispered his answer. " _You know who to ask."_

Right afterwards, Yuuri turned his face towards the police. "Everything is fine, Mr. Takano." He replied formally. While he was about to return the chair back to its original place, Mamiya's gripped his uniform, jerking him to a halt.

 _Ask. Ariga_.

And so he would. Blindly feeling for the pen and paper on the table beside him, Mamiya pulled them to his lap and hastily scribbled a message on the card. "You know who to give it to." Mamiya quipped, passing the message to Yuuri, his arms shaking so badly it collapsed the second Yuuri took the card.

Yuuri finished returning the chair. "I shall be taking my leave now, Takano-san."

"O-okay. Thank you for your work today!" The police saluted with gusto as Yuuri walked past him and out of the room. Seconds later, Mamiya could hear the soft click of a closing door from a distance.

"Do you…" Mamiya prompted immediately before the police could start saying things that could change his mind. He had to say it now. This welcoming treatment, that caring look…The police did not deserve to ever have to deal with him. And Mamiya did not deserve all this kindness and hospitality from this blind samaritan.

This heaven had to end.

"Do you really have no idea who--"

"OH CRAP!" Mamiya flinched at the police's extremely loud curse for the second time in the day. "The stove is still on!" The police glanced around with very exaggerated panic on his face. "I don't think your friend has brought you food. Shall I cook one for you too? I may not look like it but I can cook pretty well~"

The sudden change in mood washed away every single bit of Mamiya's resolve. Without it, the pillars that had been keeping him on verge of unconsciousness collapsed. Mamiya could feel his system shutting down one by one-the exploding pain muting into a dull throb, his head feeling like a mass of emptiness, his vision slowly becoming unfocused...

"I'll take that as a yes." Mamiya could hear the smile in the police's voice. "I bet you it'll be so delicious, it'll make your mouth drop!" In a swift, the police vanished to wherever the kitchen was located, leaving the door open.

 _It'll make your jaw drop_ , Mamiya corrected with his mind barely working. Somehow, the police reminded him of his graduated senior, Mitsumi Haku, and his messiah, Kaidou EirI. And there was Shirazaki... and Yuuri...smiling......

And Ariga...

Mamiya slumped against the window, his faint smile glowed peacefully under the warmth of the setting sun. As darkness dawned on him, the clicking of the stove ignitor went unnoticed.

* * *

 

_WHY??_

 

Three scribbled letters, forming one simple question.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, Ariga continued to stare at a small white memo on his hand. Only those three letters were written on one side; the other side had the name and the contact number of that Section 4 member and nothing else. No matter how much Ariga stared, there was nothing else written on that paper, nothing to specify what the person was asking about, not even the name of the sender, though there was no need for that.

Ariga could feel his heart beating faster than when he had a gun pointed to his head.

"What'cha got there?"

Ariga spotted his newly assigned messiah, Kagami Itsuki, looking at him curiously by the door.

"Unimportant." Ariga pocketed the memo. "It's nothing that you should worry about." He added before walking out, leaving Kagami alone in their shared bedroom.

Once Ariga was out of ear's reach, Kagami took out a lollipop wrapped in white and popped it into his mouth. The mystery flavor. Was it strawberry or was it orange? Or a mix of both?

From the same pocket, Kagami took out a cellphone and dialed a certain number. He slid the candy through his lips with a pop to observe the color. 

 

_' Hello -slurp- This is Takano sp-.'_

 

_*CLICK*_

 

It was red.

Ah, it was apple. Placing the candy back into his mouth, he bit down on the spherical sweet. _Crunch Crunch_. The crystal grounded against his teeth to tiny bits. He did not like apple.

Time to find his messiah.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm inclined to believe that someone who has been shot twice would be very physically weak, and added with the fact that it's always an emotional roller coaster whenever Mamiya's awake, I think him constantly falling asleep is justified. Hopefully.  
> He should have some wakey time next episode.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with the monthly update. Hope it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Again, guess which is going to be the main pairing :3


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